Death's Apprentice
by Wide Awake Bored
Summary: A lone ghost reminisces on his life consumed by revenge in the pause between battle. Written in the first person. (finished) Is supposed to be Sci-Fi Angst, but ff.net is screwing up and no longer has those genres.
1. A Childhood Lost...

Chapter 1: A Childhood Lost

Chapter 1: A Childhood Lost

I sit here on a rocky outcropping outside my headquarters for a brief respite from battle. My troops battle valiantly and I must return soon. But I allow myself a small rest, surrounded by the sounds of the waves crashing beneath me to write this tale, this memoir of myself. I have no name, nor do I deserve one for all the blood I've spilt. I am Death's apprentice, and I am called Death if you must call me something, for it fits. I am a Psi-Gifted ghost, trained by the Terran Confederacy of man to be anything but human, an assassin, one of many but one apart from the rest. My innocence was lost long ago, and it is in this tale that I share my decency, the last vestige of humanity that resides within my battered and twisted soul. And so, like so many tales, I shall start at the beginning, and work from there.

I remember my training facilities so very clearly, that righteously cleaned hellhole rests deep inside my memory. From its urine stained sleeping quarters to its blood stained training rooms. Years of marine that I'd much rather forget, but cannot. A disguised hell hid from the rest of the world in a human controlled mountain range.

One's first surgery is usually a horrific experience, one of dread and pain. Mine was worse. I remember, and it is one I hate to remember, but it is here that I shall start my tale.

I walked up to the smiling man with fear, my three year old mind did not yet understand the concept of strangers, and I was too concerned with where my parents were and why couldn't they find me to give him any of my limited trail of thought. And so I walked forward, like a good little boy, as the grinning man set me up and laid me down on metal of such cold that I was instantly numb. Most likely to save the Confederacy valuable credits in anesthetics. His assistant hurried back and forth behind, attaching lines and wires to my head, assuring me in a broken man's tone that nothing would be wrong, and had I been older I would have ran immediately, but I was young and naïve. 

I don't remember the exact details of that horrific surgery, only that I was looking at the doctor's broken assistant's face when I felt a searing pain raced across my body, and I slipped slowly into unconsciousness to the sound of a surgeon's saw.

I woke up that night in a cold bunk, my hands clammy and my left arm, my right leg and my chest swathed in bandages. My head hurt like hell. All around me were the whispered words of fear and the flashing thoughts of pain from the other children who'd had the same operation. I later learned that they had put psychic dampners all over my body, blocking and controlling 30% of my psionic potential, and letting them keep me under control. And like the frightened child that I was, I fell into sleep, dreaming fitfully of the smiling doctor, and of my parents. And then came the first of tests.

The first training session was the one I remember clearest, and it is the one that is designed to frighten us into submission and to numb our minds from the pain of suffering that we would inflict as our tests grew. For now, I walked with the guards, and I remember it being the worst test those bastards could ever hope to throw at me. 

My 5 year old mind was filled with uncertainty and confusion as the young guard led me into a brightly lit room, round in shape and filled with people that I did not know. They handed me a knife, brought one of the victims over and showed me how to use it, and left me with it. Closing the door, they told me over speakers that one person in the room had the key, and I was to kill each person in a different way with the knife until I found the key. When I had the key, the doors would open and I would be allowed to leave. I didn't know the extent of ways I could, or even why I was doing it. But as fresh blood stained the floor from the first of my victim's throats, my mind connected with his. And as I lay in bed that night, I still did not understand what I had done. All that I knew was that it was wrong, ripping that man's life away from him. Just so very wrong…

From then on killing became routine, treated as nothing more than standard law in the twisted lives we lived. I remember wondering so many nights as I lay in bed how they found so many people for us to practice our sick arts on, and I was sure that it couldn't possibly get any worse. How very wrong I was.

Cloaking was next on our list of required skills, and I knew from the start that if I were to understand why I was here and what I was doing, I would have to master it, completely and without blemish. It would be my skill, the thing that set me apart from the other trainees, and the fact that I was only one who mastered it completely gave me a sick sort of satisfaction. 

We spent endless hours in the classroom with demonstrators, telling us how long it would last before charging was required, how to check how much energy we had left, what could reveal us, and what could kill us. And it was because I paid attention with raptness unseen in my squad that I have survived as long as I did. 

We had really only one lesson and time to try out our skills learned in the classroom. A dropship dropped us off at a rocky outcropping, and a mile away was where it stood waiting. Across this miniature hell was the last thing that many of my classmates would ever see, for the terrain was filled with turrets and bunkers spread across the terrain. Our task was to get to the dropship by using our cloaking devices, and not getting ourselves killed in the process.

I believe it was my particular gift of seeing past the problem that saved me. I looked at my surroundings while my friends cloaked, and I noticed a flat plateau that was about 50 feet up and scalable, outside of all the bunkers ranges. I climbed up this hill, turned my cloaking field on and ran the mile. No one ever saw me. And so many of us would have survived that test if they had seen me, for of the 50 that they dropped off at the starting point, only eight of us made it to the end. I was ten at the time.

Late that night, after I'd dealt with the little horrors etched into my mind from that experienced, I looked at the cloaking device I'd stolen. I knew I had to escape somehow, but that I couldn't do it with its limited supply of energy. So instead I turned to my own psionic skills, and the blocks in my mind that I could feel so very clearly. And I resolved that I would never feel those blocks again. 

Three nights I spent cloaked, watching and searching for the key to deactivating the damned things. On the fourth night I found it, and I deactivated them. But their deactivation, and the feeling that came directly after was nothing I had ever felt before.

It felt as if a great burden had suddenly been lifted from my shoulders. But my feeling of enlightenment did not last long, and the pain came. Images flooded my mind from every person in the room, their thoughts and feelings filling my head to the breaking point. I almost went mad with the sheer overload. I bit my lip until the blood ran to keep from screaming out, to beat my pillow in fear and pain. I shared every dream of every person in that room, the good and the bad. And it was pure hell dealing with that every night until I could deal with it, and control the thoughts I heard but did not want to hear. And so began the development of my psionic powers. 

Two more years of intense training followed, from Lockdown and its principles to survival skills on the battleground. But by far, nuking was the strangest thing I ever learned, and I was always amazed that when I had ran far enough and chosen my hiding place, squeezed in among the rocks and crevices with my eyes shut tight that the world was as bright as day…

As I walked down that dreaded hallway that I'd been down so many times in my young life, its screams of pain from each room often controlled the shapes of my dreams. I quaked in fear despite the guards chastisements, I'd already read his mind and I knew what was in store for me. 

The steel covered doors closed heavily behind me, the lone guard in the room striding purposefully towards me, pistol held loosely in his left hand. And as he slowly raised it to my head, the full horror on my test came to me. My task was that once it was resting against my head, I had to kill him before he pulled the trigger, by any means necessary. 

When the cold steel of the muzzle touched my skull, I instinctively reacted, the Confederate killing instincts inside me reacting instantly to their master's command. Connecting with his mind was easy enough, and I clouded his mind, and he didn't pull the trigger. My hand shot out, and in his stupor he did not try to move as I knocked the gun into the air. Leaping up I caught the gun in mid-air and fired three quick shots to the transfixed guard's head, his brain splattering the back wall in a sea of Crimson. The door's slowly opened to the technician's smiling faces, as if killing him was something to be celebrated. Walking slowly to my bunk, my hands unclenched and I remember the dull thud the gun made when it hit the ground. It was an incredibly traumatic experience for a 12 year old, and I swear those sadistic bastards enjoyed every minute of it. 

After that I was officially a Confederate ghost, trained and owned solely by them. I went through the standard pledges to humanity, knowing they were full of shit and not meaning any of it. After that I spent 6 more years of relentless training while I waited for my assignment, slowly making my way from private to corporal. And then came the Chau Sara incident, and the beginning of the madness.

I remember sitting in the communications room, my eyes and the eyes of the other two graduates glued to the screen in front of us as we watched the blue and yellow ships of the protoss descend from space. The defenseless planet didn't stand a chance, and it was cooked past its molten core, eruptions of red filling the screen on every monitor. The Korhal incident with it's ceaseless nuking was nothing compared to this, for while Korhal would eventually be habitable again, Chau Sara would never see life on its surface again. And it was only the first.

Later talk turned to the Zerg, a word and a species that would change my life forever. And it was then that we received our assignments, and mine was much worse than even I had imagined. I was to be assigned to the legendary Alpha Squadron, and I that I was being sent to the frontlines to fight a war for a government I knew absolutely nothing about… 


	2. The Frontlines Of War

Chapter 2: The Frontlines Of War

Chapter 2: The Frontlines Of War

The hiss of air filled the cramped Dropship cockpit as my pilot docked gently with the Norad 2, the behemoth of a battlecruiser that was my new home, and the centre of operations for General Duke's Alpha Squadron. I stepped out onto a metal plank in full gear to be met by a jumpy technician and the excitement-turned-bored stares of the marines. I was just another Ghost. But I was a Ghost that would not go away like the rest.

I followed jumpy to General Duke's quarters, and was hit by a wave of fear as I walked in. But the fear wasn't for me. Duke was staring intently at the computer screen in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth again and again on the unchanging screen. Jumpy had already left, scurrying away to his post frantically like Duke was gonna kill him. Hell, if I'd been around him for as long as the General had, I'd probably be tempted to do the same.

"Ghost reporting," was the comment I gave that jarred the balding General back to reality. I stood at rapt attention while he gave me the usual "give-it-all-for-me" speech, filling me with the military bullshit I'd come to expect. I yes sir'd at all the right times, but I knew all the words he would say before he said them. There are times when being psionically gifted is an incredible pain in the ass. When he finished 5 minutes later, I was given my leave to explore the rest of the ship at my leisure. 

The Norad 2 itself was an immense beast, 2 miles end to end from its sub-warp engines to its menacing Yamato Cannon, an immense weapon capable of focusing a small nuclear explosion into a beam of energy and unleashing it upon single foes. Multiple squadrons of the agile Wraith fighters stood beside the ships Dropships in the many hangers. She was a proud and deadly ship, but I would never see her again…

"Now listen up boys and girls," Duke's voice blared over the loudspeakers spread throughout the ship's interior, "We've been given new orders by our loving government. We're to go down to Mar Sara, and wipe those scum ridden Zerg right off the planet! Charge your weapons boys and girls, we're a going to war!" Cheers echoed across the Norad 2 from every marine on board, but I did not cheer. I could not help the fear that was growing slowly inside me. The fear that I would join the many unlucky soldiers whose only lasting impression was a name on the lengthy casualty lists of the Confederacy of Man.

Zerg, the species we were going to war with. An insect-like race that was hell-bent on their purity of essence, whatever that meant. The soldiers themselves were mindless, the entire race was controlled by a single brain-like entity dubbed the Overmind. To the Confederacy, they were just bugs with claws, and we were the exterminators. The only thing we didn't think about however, was that if the Protoss felt they had to toast an entire planet to stop them from spreading, what chance did we have on the ground? 

I was dropped off separately from the rest of my group, and given a Vulture bike and my specific orders. I had my own mission, I'd worry bout base camp later. I was to go to the enemy's base, gather intelligence information and then paint a target for nuking, then get the hell out of there. Because the Zerg didn't take prisoners.

I left my bike back at my drop point, favouring my feet for the first part. I ran lightly, safely hidden from view in my cloaking field from any possible Zerg lying in wait, but my fear was still there. I climbed a small range, sensing enormous activity in front of me. But any fears I had before looking over that ridge were washed away in the sheer terror of the unknown that lay below me. 

A purple, oozing substance quilted the ground heavily, reeking of death and decay. Human skulls lay among the purple ooze, called Creep I later found out, but it was the buildings themselves that scared me the most. Unlike the electronic filled Barracks I was used to, these buildings were made of skin and pulsed, as if alive. I later learned that they were. Fearfully relaying my information to base, I painted my target. And I ran. 

I raced away from that site of horror, neglecting to switch my cloaking back on in my mad dash to safety. I later learned the folly of not staying cloaked if I could. A dog thing burst up from the ground behind me and darted forward, its claws clacking against each other in the air. I unslung my C-10 Canister rifle and fired quickly, the explosive shells making quick work of the Zergling's pitiful armor and spraying green ichor across my back. I continued running. Throwing myself behind a large boulder, I braced myself, and the ground shook and rumbled beneath me, attacked by nuclear fire. 

I slowly made my way to my Vulture cycle, wiping my back as I checked for the communications that I knew weren't there. I was scared shitless, the kind of deep down fear that once the adrenaline has worn off leaves you a tired wreck. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I got back to base. 

The sounds of distant gunfire, echoing loudly across the hills and plains of Mar Sara brought me swiftly back to reality. Gunning my engine, I raced forward like a bat out of hell, worst case scenarios playing through my mind all the while. I didn't really have to worry about it though. It was much worse.

Human and Zerg blood pooled along the ground, great piles of green clashing with the torn limbs and red blood of my fellow soldiers. Buildings burned to the ground from the Zerg onslaught, as thousands upon thousands of the fierce but weak zerglings poured into the compound unchecked. Marines were slaughtered helplessly, Firebats exploded in balls of flame as their gas tanks ruptured. And everywhere along the planet, chaos reigned. 

Looking down upon the masses of bodies and zerglings strewn about, I knew I couldn't do anything. But I didn't care. I fired anyway. Grenade after grenade shot from the nose of my Vulture, falling upon hundreds of the zerglings, only to watch helplessly as hundreds more leapt over the ones I had just killed. Hearing a rumble, I looked to the sky to see the worst sight a soldier could ever see in his military career. I looked up to see the Norad 2 pull out of orbit, leaving us alone on a planet overrun by the monstrous Zerg…

I don't know how long I sat there, watching the endless carnage below unfold itself. But however long it was, I suddenly felt jarred back to reality by a voice inside my mind, screaming for help. And I answered without thinking. Shooting forward over the barren ground, I came upon a group of zerglings moving forward very slowly, stalking an unseen foe. 

The group continued walking forward, oblivious to my presence while completely attuned to another. Out of nowhere, the lead zergling split apart by an unseen blade, splashing its ichor upon the unseen attacker and clearly marking him for his attackers. I wasted no more time. As the zerg charged at the lone soldier, I fired a barrage of grenades, sowing confusion among their ranks and eliminating five of the six left. The other stood no chance and met the same fate as the first, sliced open and dead in an instant. The now green entity that I had just saved brushed the ichor off himself, and I immediately recognized superior cloaking technologies at work. He slowly materialized in front of me, and I stared, for I had seen nothing like him before. What in god's name was he?

The unknown stranger withdrew his blade and looked at me quizzically. He stood about 5 feet tall, slightly hunched over and surrounded by a long blue cloak that swirled behind and around him. He had no mouth, but rather a large bony plate covered by skin where his mouth should have been, and had piercing eyes that were of a deep blue, a colour that made him look sad all the time. 

_Human?_ The thought reverberated through my mind, and sudden realization of how he communicated coursed through me. If he had no mouth, what other choice was there but telepathy. "Yes," I said aloud, still a little unnerved by the situation. Had he been cloaked I would have thought I was hearing things. _How? Humans have no psionic powers._ "No, we don't," I answered. The being, whatever he was, seemed to accept this. _How did you find me? My call was a psychic one._ I decided to surprise him a little, and answered in the same way. _Yes it was, but there are a few of us Humans gifted with the abilities you seem to readily possess, such as myself. _This was news to him apparently, like a human suddenly learning that his dog knew how to talk. After awhile, he answered quickly. _So I see. In any event I thank you for answering. Now come, we must leave immediately before my ignorant brethren arrive. I have a ship nearby, follow me. I will tell you everything once we are safely away._

As I sat there in his shuttle, guided deftly by my new friend's piloting skills, I remember looking at Mar Sara's destruction with that of great sadness. I had become so hardened by now that death did not bother me, usually. More of the giant Protoss warships descended from the sky, roasting Mar Sara in the same way that they did her sister world of Chau Sara, leaving it nothing more than a blackened rock in space that would never see life on its surface again. And even out in space, carried away swiftly from the carnage, I heard the mental begs and screams of agony from my fellow comrades. And for the first time in ten years, I did something I had been convinced I did not still know how to do. I cried.


	3. Mercenaries

Chapter 3: Mercenaries

Chapter 3: Mercenaries

I stared into the inky blackness of space, pulled along through the void in a small shuttle. I vaguely heard the air hiss as we docked with the awaiting Carrier in orbit, the Aiur's Fury. The last vestiges of human innocence that I'd managed to hang onto evaporated that day, pooling away from me like my tearstained face. And I hated the Zerg. Hated them so much that obliterating their entire species and stomping on the pieces until they I couldn't stomp any longer wouldn't be enough. Not nearly enough…

_Come my friend, we have much to talk about. Follow me to my quarters, and I shall answer any questions you may have._ I have to guess he saw that I wasn't moving because in mid-step he hesitated and added, _I am sorry for the loss of your comrades. _"Yeah," I whispered, "So am I."

I received a pleasant shock when I stepped onto that wonderful ship. I had been expecting the usual bombardments of stray thoughts and unspoken threats that abound on a military ship, but there was none. Every thought on the ship was carefully controlled, the silence only broken by casual bits of conversation from the psychic crew. The silence, for someone like me accustomed to unending noise was bliss. Sheer bliss.

_Aiur's Wrath_ was a beautiful ship gleaming from end to end, incredibly well armored and more spacious than the Norad 2 could ever hope to be. But, as I followed my mysterious friend, I realized with a start what they were. They were Protoss, the destroyers of two Terran worlds. 

I visibly relaxed as we came to his quarters, my wearied body seeking anything to sit on, even the floor. I graciously sank into the chair he offered me, and watched as my friend sat across from me, and began his sorrowful tale.

_My name is Tal'Kor of the Dark Templar. I am commander of the ship you are standing on and the small fleet accompanying it. The Dark Templar themselves, my people, were outcast from Aiur, the Protoss homeworld many centuries ago. We were outcast, scratching an existence in the dark void of space and I, in turn, was outcast from my own people. _"Why? If your people were outcasts themselves, and hated it, why would they sentence one of their own to the same cruel fate?"

__

Blasphemy. When the Dark Templar were exiled for our individuality, none of us ever forgot our homeworld, and the sacred duty that bound us to it. And so strong was my desire to see that wonderful world again that I damned myself to the life I now lead by my reckless outburst. "What did you do?_ I suggested that we take Aiur back from our brethren, by force if necessary. And I was rebuked and myself and my followers exiled, for none of us could fathom making war upon on our own brethren, never mind battling them on our own homeworld. And so we are what you see before you, Mercenaries. We fight for pay, and we strike at the monstrous Zerg whenever possible. And since you have saved my life, I offer you a place in our little army, as my second in command. Hopefully we will find others like you so that a Terran fleet of your own may be built, and then we may stand a chance in the greater conflict that you know is coming. And we will need all the help we can get._

And I joined, what other choice did I have? Besides, Tal'Kor was growing on me, and he gave me a chance to spill that which I wanted the most. He gave me the chance to spill the fresh blood of the Zerg, and to see that it would never stop pouring.

I should probably include an account, although rudimentary, of the training I undertook during the many lonely days when we were not employed, simply drifting from one location to the next. My psionic abilities grew by leaps and bounds until I became the equal of any Protoss warrior I could think of. I could cast Psionic Storms of my own, the waves of raw energy tearing my enemies to pieces under its harsh agenda. I learned from the Dark Templar aboard how to bend light around myself, as they do, forming a permanent-cloaking field to be used at my beck and call. But I never did get rid of my Ghost armor and weapons, but rather made innumerous augmentations, it was mine now, and it was damn fine armor.

Over the next two years with Tal'Kor and his mercenaries, I bore witness to millions of battles, and after each my desire for vengeance on the nightmarish Zerg grew and grew. My hands grew more and more soiled with blood, not of the Zerg, but of the innocents caught in the crossfire. And it was them who often haunted my dreams and my nightmares. But then came the battle that would haunt my every waking moment…forever.

I stood on the bridge of my battlecruiser, the _Iron Fist, _and stared at the viewscreens with a mix of terror and excitement. Zerg filled the sky, as if a living cloud of the demons had suddenly decided that this area of space was a good spot to take up residence. It looked to be a complete brood, fully armed and quite superior in numbers than we could ever hope to have. Scourge filled the sky, weaving in and out of the pockets between the groups of various Mutalisk strains that filled the sky, patrolling the perimeter with deadly efficiency. We couldn't hope to beat them, we didn't have a chance in hell. But they weren't gonna give us the chance of running away. They were already attacking. 

I reacted instantly, shouting orders to my battle-hardened men and keeping an eye on the battle from the bridge. "Get our Wraiths out there and cloak em! I don't want any of those Scourge to get through! Charge our Yamato and fire on tightly packed groups of targets, we'll do more damage that way! Get all of our Valkyries out there, if enough of those Mutalisks get through we're dead! I want everything within range of your weapons destroyed, GOGOGO!"

Wraiths swooped through the battlefield in groups, clearing out clusters of Scourge in blasts of missile fire and crimson. Mutalisks fired at anything they could, and many fell to the Wraiths missiles, but many more were left to take their place. In a blast of speed a group of 24 managed to get past the Wraiths and made directly for my Battlecruiser as if the dog's of hell were on their very heels.

I braced myself for impact from the Mutalisks' Glave Wurm, expecting to feel the little parasites attempt to sheer through the _Iron Fist's_ armor. But Tal'Kor saved my ass again. Out of nowhere 12 of his scouts shot at the attacking Mutalisks, tearing them to shreds with their Anti-Matter missiles in seconds. 

Looking over to my friend's ship, my cry of thanks caught in my throat as I watched the scene play through. When his Scouts had come to our rescue, they had left a large chunk open in their defensive pattern and the Scourge trying to get in took instant advantage of it. 15 of the little monsters shot forward and rammed themselves into the _Aiur's Wrath_. Flame spilled from the flagship's engines and its hull buckled under the intense damage. A last Scourge rammed itself into its hull and the once proud flagship buckled a last time and exploded, the space around it filling with blue fire as the once proud ship left the battle spectacularly, taking the only friend I'd ever had in this world with it. 

Tears flowed down my cheeks but I didn't notice them, my mind so attuned to crisis that I didn't even register that my friend was dead. I rallied my dead friend's ships to mine, the Scouts and Corsairs joining my Wraiths, Valkyries and Science Vessels in a defensive perimeter around my ship and the Norad 3, the last battlecruiser in my fleet. I sat down heavily in my command chair and stared forward, there was no way we could win, or retreat. They had us surrounded, steadily advancing on our position and brining with them the beginning of the end. For despite our considerable forces, they had more than double what we did, and they were eagerly exploiting their advantage. Opening up my mind as I always did when talking with Tal'Kor, I murmured my goodbye to my fallen friend, missing him already. _Well Tal'Kor, it looks like I'll be joining you much sooner than nature intended. It was a privilege and an honour knowing and fighting alongside you. I'll see you soon old friend, so very soon… _


	4. The Vipeian Army

Chapter 4: The Vipeian Army

Chapter 4: The Vipeian Army

I slowly stood on the bridge of my ship, watching the Zerg-infested space around me through my tearstained eyes. I looked at the Zerg, but this time, I felt a new emotion. A sense of peace. I did not fear them anymore. Granted I still hated them but fear was no longer an issue. The bastards had taken too much from me. My home, my family, my friend. I looked out at the abominations, and I felt nothing.

"Alright boys and girls," I yelled, "you can all see we're outgunned, and I'd be lying to you if I said we had a chance to survive this. But I'll be damned if I let these alien bastards walk all over us without a damn good fight! So if we die today, let's give em a fucking good ride to get there!" Cheers resounded throughout the hull of my ship, every soldier on board pumped up on adrenaline and the promise of battle. Orders were relayed and my ships got into defensive positions as the Zerg continuously advanced on us. And then all hell broke loose…

I later found out that it was us who hit them first, but it didn't matter then. All reasoning was lost in the massive bloodbath that ensued. The blackness of space was turned red from the blood of my eternal enemies and the explosions of my troops ships and weapons. And then the zerg used a tactic that almost killed us all.

A zerg Overlord flew above the _Iron Fist_, and a large thump shook our ship. Fearing for the worst, I immediately cloaked myself and searched for a weapon. I was not to be disappointed. Zerg poured into the ship from the whole they'd torn in the hull, monstrous animals inside the ship itself. The thump that I'd heard, I realized with sickening clarity, was the Overlord depositing its cargo, Zerg warriors craving human flesh. And it was hell.

My technicians scrambled to close the hole in the hell, and just as the hole in the hull was sealed the zerg were upon us. 3 of my technicians died instantly, falling to the floor dead and bleeding in a million places. Hydralisk spines riddled their bodies in a million places, leaving my technicians nothing more than bleeding pincushions. And staring at my dead men, I lost myself in the fury of battle.

Leaping up from my crouched position I grabbed one of my dead marine's gauss rifle and fired round after round into the invaders. Blood splashed against me, rendering me partially visible but I didn't care, I simply held the trigger. Something struck me lightly in the stomach, splashing against my frame and I looked down in horror to see what it was. The brains of one of the fallen marines coated my stomach, rendering myself very visible to the zerg invaders. 

I went crazy. Launching myself at the nearest Marine, I grabbed his gauss rifle and held both in front of me and fired continuously. "Die you sons of bitches! DIE!" Bullets hammered into the monsters ceaselessly, but I kept firing, caring nothing for myself or my ammunition, caring only for revenge. I didn't notice that they were dead until I ran out of bullets, my guns clicking, as they had nothing to fire. I threw them to the side and breathed in heavily. The bloodwrath was gone, for now.

Looking back on that horrific battle inside the bridge of my ship, I realized with a start that the battle wasn't as big as I thought it had been. Counting the total carcasses after they were dead, I realized that there had only been a total of 4 Zerglings with a 2 Hydralisk escort. But to my blood coloured self, it could have been millions. 

I looked away from the carnage before me, only to realize with a start that the Zerg were gone. Staring out into the blackness in front of me, there were no Zerg, but rather a full-fledged armada composed of Terran and Protoss ships. I sat down slowly in what was left of my command chair, and hoped against hope that their intentions were friendly. Because if they weren't, none of us would be leaving this battlefield alive…

The lead battlecruiser in front of me hailed us, and I immediately sized him up when his face appeared on the screen. Sensing no immediate hostility from this unknown commander, I let go of some of my defenses, and waited for judgement to be passed.

"Terran commander, identify yourself," was the message relayed by my unknown contact, his eyes on me and my bloodstained clothes. "We're not military here pal," I responded coldly," we're a mercenary group. And I won't be talked down to by anyone, not even you." The other commander laughed, aura's of relief flooding out of him in waves after waves of calm. 

"My name is SkyBolt, or at least it is what you may call me. We watched you fight, my comrades and I, while waiting to get close enough to launch our own ships. And I am intrigued by something. Despite your chances for survival you fought on without caring to see if you could run away. Why?" "My reasons are my own Bolt, and mine alone. However, I will tell you that my life has been devoted to ridding the universe of those galactic monstrosities. So now tell me, why did you save us?"

"There is an army I belong too, dedicated to survival and, like you, ridding the universe of the Zerg. As of now we are marshalling our forces and recruiting various militant groups, preparing for the battle we both know is coming." "You still haven't answered my question, Bolt." Although my attitude was cold, I was intrigued by this man and his army. I had a large military group, to be sure, but this man commanded entire armies that held the same goal I had harbored in my twisted soul for so long. Perhaps there was hope for a universe I had deemed doomed. 

"Yes, you are right. I have come on behalf of this army to offer you a position in it, brilliant tacticians like yourself are in high demand. You will remain in charge of your forces, to be sure, and we will fill in any gaps from your losses with troops and supplies from us. What do you say?"

I heard his offer, but looking at me you wouldn't have thought it, for I put very little thought into my decision. My mind was wandering again, as I often let it do, to past memories. And as I looked back, I realized with a shock what I had become. I was Death itself, taking lives to avenge those that were taken from me. And it was not the Zerg lives that troubled me, but the innocents caught and gunned down in the crossfire, ones that did not deserve to die but that I had killed in my bloodlust. But deep in the depths of my soul, I was a warrior, content and able to identify myself only on the battlefield. I was a soldier from birth, and it was time that I became one again. 

"You have me SkyBolt. As for my men I will leave the decision to them, but you have my skills. And I will fight until the Zerg are wiped from this reality, or I will die trying." "Excellent!" clapped my new comrade, "we will send repair crews to your ships and retreat at once to our base of operations. You are now a Major in the Vipeian Army, but I must ask. What is your name?" I turned slowly to face SkyBolt, and I knew that I was undeserving of a name. "I am Death," I said simply, and left the bridge to clean the blood stains from my body.

Later that night, lying in the inky darkness of my ship's quarters, I contemplated life as I used to do with my fallen friend. But I had a new technique now, one that worked better than simply thinking about it. I opened my mind to my telepathic abilities, and I spoke to Tal'Kor as if he were still here, eagerly probing life's mysteries with me as we so often did before. 

__

Well old buddy, we're committed for the long haul now. I know nothing I do to the Zerg will ever bring you or the others I lost back, but it's the only life I have ever known. And somehow, I know you'll understand. But, I will not stop fighting, I will continue to bring swift death to those accursed abominations. And not just for me anymore, but for you as well, a mutual quest spanning our two realms, that of the living and of the dead. And I promise you that they will pay for what they have done! I miss you, old friend. More than any of my men will ever know. You were the only friend I ever had, the only one who understood my rage, my bloodlust, my burning desire for revenge. I will see you again, old friend. But not yet, not yet… 


	5. Epilogue: Death Incarnate

Epilogue: Death Incarnate

Epilogue: Death Incarnate

And it is here that my sorrow filled tale must tragically end. You have learned the sad truth of my existence, the hatred, the pain and the endless quest for vengeance that has become the sole driving force in a life that carries no reason for being.

And it is this document, and the events recorded within its hallowed pages, that I entrust to your care, dear reader. Read it, and remember. Remember the deeds done by myself and others, and the deeds that are yet to come.

I leave you now, to join my enemies in the cosmic dance of war that has become my hate-filled destiny. I do not know how long this quest of mine to rid the world of the zerg will take, but time has no meaning to me, unlike the humans and even the long-lived Protoss under my command. For I am human no longer. I am Death Incarnate, a living embodiment of the only of what my enemies receive from me each day.

Read this and remember, dear reader. Remember what was done here today, and the days before. Remember…

****

THE END

__

Disclaimer: The worlds, ships and species used in this story belong to Blizzard Entertainment™ and their affiliated corporations. Only the fictional characters in this story, the narrator and Tal'Kor, along with certain events belong to me.


End file.
